Memoirs of Chaos: History of the Matrix, Version 7
by Delton Wildfire
Summary: The stories of the cruelhearted and malicious Lady Return as she brings her reign of chaos to the Merovingian Organization. Set in the changing world of the Matrix Online, retelling the actual events of the game. Updated to add chapter 2.
1. Prologue & Chapter 1

Memoirs of Chaos: A History of the Matrix, Version the 7th, through One Woman's Eyes

By Lady Return of the Devil's Advocates, aligned with the Merovingian Organization

Introduction

There are many stories in our world. They are created every day with every slip of the tongue, pull of a trigger, and simple thought that may bubble through our neuropathways. However, many of these stories are forgotten or passed up after they are created. They are almost doomed to death the second they happen, and a lot of our very vibrant culture is lost with each brief second.

Some of these stories, however, find a way to survive age. These are the stories that seem to glide along the tongue and find ways to re-appear, be it through general gossip or becoming committed to a page of a book. Sometimes, some of these stories aren't worthy of being remembered. Other stories can capture the heart, ensnare your mind, and bring you back to days gone by.

Apparently, people tell me that my story happens to be one of them. So here I am, sitting in a chair, setting down on paper my very soul for others to view.

My name is Sarah Angela. Well, that's what my parents called me after my first birth, my birth inside of the Matrix. After my very rude awakening though, others wished to call me Violet. Those were back during my days with Zion, and personally those are the days I'd rather not remember. The first thing I did when I got out of that military, that second prison of mine, was change my name. Everyone calls me Return… and some have enough respect to call me Lady Return. The latter are certainly the smarter ones, and they include the ones who understand what I had to do to deserve a title such as that.

Too many people today like to attach titles to themselves. I find that improper and generally in poor taste. You cannot give yourself honor – someone else has to do that for you. And yet, I walk about and I hear people giving themselves honor. "Lady (Insert Name Here)" or "Master (Insert Name Here)" or the ever popular "(Name), (Adjective)". These newbie redpills have a lot to learn, especially when it makes me look bad.

I have a lot to tell you and very little time to elaborate about it. I know some people will wish to burn this book and the contents thereof, but I kindly ask to whoever reads it that you sit down and take me seriously. Even if you know who I am, even if you hate my guts out for what I have done, they need to be re-told. They still happened, and to hide them from the world would be an attempt to erase a part of the past. I will cover how I became who I am now, why people call me Lady, how I got to the Matrix and why I loathe it but can never leave it, and a lot of the events that people have forgotten in the past that need to be remembered. They may be my views of our rich history, but they are a view of what we all share together.

Chapter 1 – Opening the World (Event: Game Launch)

The simplest place to begin is the beginning, what can I say? I was new, I was blind, and I was easily misguided into thinking Zion could be my new home. I was still amazed by how quickly my world had changed in such a small period of time.

One night, I was working for MetaCortechs. The next day I was lying on the floor of a small hovercraft, people looking at me and wondering who I was. They kept asking me, "You took the red pill, right? Someone offered you a pill; do you remember who it was?" I didn't know why they were so shocked when I told them that I was never offered a pill and the last thing I could remember before ending up on the ship was that I felt a very striking pain in my chest and was staring into the eyes of a man who I knew simply as Agent North.

Self-substantiated. That's what they like to call it in this new world. Very briefly, it's a person who somehow figured out that their world was a lie and was able to free themselves from the horror of the unseen prison. Some say that these people have a deeper understanding of the code of the green and black simulation and that's why they were able to free themselves. Others say that these people are internally insane and just happened to find a way out via sheer luck. Still more people claim that powerful trauma has the ability to clear our vision and let us see the "world" for what it really was.

For as much bickering as there is about self-substantiation, people agree on what let me out of the Matrix. It was a cross of all three methods at once.

Either way, I was cold, confused, weak, and lying helpless on the deck of this Zionist ship. I soon came to learn everything I know about the Matrix from that crew. And when I say everything, I mean everything. From faction warfare, to the three organizations, to combat; I got it all from them. With them, I got to meet all of the movers and shakers of the Matrix. I got a compliment about my purple dress from Captain Niobe, I shook the hand of her partner, Ghost, I got to speak with the Oracle for the first time (but not the last time) and sadly declined my chance at a cookie – I was watching my weight at the time – and I was honored to be in the presence of him.

Yes, you heard me right, I said I was honored to meet Captain Morpheus and hear him speak. As nuts as Old Baldy was, he had a lot of things right. There was a lot about what he had done that… well… I still do admire. The way he walked, the way he spoke… the air about him was filled with command and this deep knowledge. I may have diffused his code bombs to preserve the Matrix, but I still have to applaud the guy for having the guts to lay them down. Where as Zion has absolutely no clue why they fight anymore, I know he had a damn good reason. If he didn't have a good reason, I wouldn't have been cutting those wires and ruining my manicure.

I'm getting ahead of myself. Captain Morpheus will get his section. As for now, well, I pitied the crew of that Zion vessel. I'll keep this brief… I was simply just a curious girl, and I wanted to see my options. After Agent Gray and Flood contacted me over my cell phone, both offering me employment, I wanted to hear a little more. My captain told me not to return the phone calls, but I don't listen to orders very well. Especially when I found out that the Merovingian happened to be someone I actually worked with before. He ordered a few things from my region at MetaCortex. I got to meet him once when there was a shipping error. Charming man… I wanted to speak with him.

Apparently that was a very large no-no in Zion. But, how was I to know that? I was a newbie at all of this. My captain would have found out, however, if the operator wasn't keeping such a good record of my cell phone conversations. What a bastard. That's why they all had to die. A very well placed charge on the engine given to me by a rogue sentinel and poof, my worries disappeared as I viewed the explosion from a distance. My path was set and I began to walk the path of chaos – the path of a Merovingian supporter.

I became favored for my cold judgment, loud leadership, and unique… flair. Apparently the Merovingian liked the way I took advantage of everything in a social situation, from my looks to my abilities in understanding what people desired. It was good for business, and whatever was good for business rose in the organization.

After a short time, I found myself working quite closely with two others. A young man with shining green hair and a green duster jacket to match, and a young woman with a love for cruelty. We complimented one another quite well, in my opinion. I was the brains of the group, able to formulate plans and conduct leadership. Nepaethe was the jokester, who slung his guns at his sides and was an excellent sharpshooter when he needed to get serious. And lastly, Coraxian was a woman with a deadly punch. She had the same "no-fuss" attitude that I was known for, and it was probably why we got along so well.

The missions that we ran were flawless, and we soon, once again, attracted the attention of the Merovingian. He said that of all of the new redpills that were flowing into his organization, he felt that he could trust us with a high honor. The day he met with us was the day that the Devil's Advocates, the elite social arm of the Merovingian, the ones trusted with the bulk of his precious information, was created. We were allocated three old, broken down, rust buckets that barely could pass as hovercrafts that the Merovingian redpills had captured from Zion to use as a starting point. I still felt proud when I walked aboard that ship though and relished in my new title. Commander Return. Captain Coraxian. Captain Nepaethe. We felt like there could be no end to what we could do.

That changed in a heartbeat and an order. Just as we began our recruiting, Nepeathe was called by Flood to do some charting of a new section of tunnels in the real. He came to our first recruiting party, announced what had happened, and we gave him a hug, knowing full well that he would be back in just a couple days and finish gathering his crew.

We were wrong. Nepeathe never came back. The third founder of the Advocates… lost to the Real… forever.

We had a short ceremony at Camon Heights church. It was attended only by me and Coraxian… no one else new Nepeathe as well as we did. Just as we finished the services and turned around, a couple sarcastic claps came from the back row of pews. Flood had kicked back his heels onto the bench in front of him, a piece of paper in his hand, and a nasty smirk on his face. We were being re-assigned. Something big had come up.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – Fragments of a Shattered Soul (Event: The Race to Find "The One", Part 1)

Thomas Anderson was lazy. I don't care if he was the savior of the Matrix, I don't care how many lives he saved. Sure, I didn't get the full story, but when I knew Tom, he was lazy as lazy can be. I met him twice. Once during my inspection of the corporation in the HQ building and the second time when I saw him get carted away by the police. I smiled and waved the second time I saw him. I was disappointed when he didn't smile and wave back, but then I realized his hands were handcuffed.

I should have realized what kind of world I was living in right then. Why would anyone want to arrest a little shrimp like Anderson and make it look like they were taking a dangerous criminal into custody? When I spoke to Reinhart, Anderson's boss, he just guessed it was computer hacking. Apparently the guy was really into it. Whatever. As long as we didn't employ him, I didn't care.

Of course, looking back at it, the days went as smooth as sunshine. In fact, I almost can't remember what happened in the couple months after that. Of course, now I know my memory got wiped by the machines, attempting to cover up Tom's wreckage of the system. God… that's a creepy thing to think about when you actually consider it. I wonder what happened to me during that entire showdown? Was I hit by the Smith virus? I guess I'll never know, but I'll just assume yes.

But, as far as I was concerned, Anderson was dead to me after I saw him get arrested. I didn't even think about him again after that point. Little did I know that I would get to meet the amazing Anderson, or Neo, many called him, after he was already dead.

Coraxian and I stood up in the front of the bland church and stared at Flood, who finally pulled his heels off of the pew and began to walk towards us. Flood was always dressed well, a very fine pale white vest, gray tie, and white shirt and black pants. He had to dress well though; he was second in command to the Merovingian himself, and our mission controller. A lot of people saw very few of Flood, as he kept to himself. Zionists speak of him in whispers, and from what I hear the Machines do the same thing. They're the lucky ones though, I see him too much.

"How are the meatbags today?" asked Flood, chuckling to himself as he finally approached us.

"Flood, just shut up and give us the envelope. Now is not a good time," Coraxian said.

"Fine. Just thought I'd start up a little friendly conversation. You redpills always think you're better than us," Flood replied.

"That's because we are, honey. But look at the bright side, we work with you and not against you anymore," I said.

"You know I could have you thrown out of this organization for incompetence, Return!"

"And what would the Merovingian say… hmmm?"

"He'd agree with me. We don't take in those who don't give back."

"If I didn't give back honey, I wouldn't be a commander of a faction. Nor would I be trusted with the Merovingian's sensitive business. So save your threats for the newbies. They might actually quiver for you."

Flood kept a cool composure for once, instead of lashing out against Return. He handed the envelope over to Return's waiting gloved hand and she quickly began to open it. "Inside of the envelope are your new assignments for your faction. This information is very important and it is being assigned to all Merovingian factions. Make sure that this falls into the hands of no Zionist and no Machinist. Did I make myself clear to the two of you incompetent fools?" We both nodded our heads and Flood sneered once more in response. "Then I will be removing myself from your presence. I hate churches."

Without a further word or a "good bye", Flood turned around and marched out of the church. "I'm glad he knows when to make himself scarce," Coraxian chuckled to herself.

My eyes scanned over the orders, but I was very much confused. They were scarce, indirect, and generally… general. "Keep your eyes open… strange disturbances… odd occurrences… report everything you see." That was the gist of the entire letter from the Merovingian. I handed the letter over to Coraxian, who also had an equally bewildered look on her face after reading it.

"What is this garbage? These aren't orders, they're more like suggestive guidelines for a search," she complained.

"A search for what… that's the question," I replied. "Do you want to go back to your ship and see if you can get your operator to find these 'odd disturbances' in the code, or do you want me to do that?"

"No… I'll take care of it. You keep the recruiting drive up, we need more members, and perhaps you might come across something."

"Right. Good luck in your search, I'll meet up with you later. I'll go take a look at Westview, perhaps find something in the mess over there."

We both ran to the Camon Heights Central hardline and grabbed the phone there. She left while I used it to hardline jump over to Gracy Heights, in the lower part of Westview. Well, the bluepills call this place Westview, I'm also prone to still calling it Westview. But many more redpills have affectionately renamed the place to "The Barrens".

The Barrens is an appropriate renaming too. When I was still a blue, I avoided this place at all costs. Buildings are all condemned, gangs run violently in the streets, the old Westview highway is literally crumbling down and falling into old buildings beneath… It's a literal warzone. The exiles fight here all the time for power and control, although I have yet to figure out what's so desirable in this section of the city. The code is all screwed up here, that's why the buildings are falling apart. Most of the place is being deleted, which is why all the trash lies freely in the streets. And the place has this odd reddish orange dust in it… it's disgusting. Sometimes it gets to the point where even the green sky turns orange from the dust of the decay. And before you ask, the machines don't care about the upkeep of Westview. All they care about is keeping Downtown as pristine as possible.

Why was I going there, you ask? Well, I knew of these two guys down in Gracy Court, which was by the Gracy Heights Central hardline. After stepping out of the phone booth and adjusting my dress, they were the ones I wanted to see.

I waited by the bus stop for the traffic to die down, and I absentmindedly looked over and saw a newspaper machine sitting next to me, holding today's edition of "The Sentinel". I checked around to make sure no one was looking, and I removed one of my gloves. Concentrating for a brief moment, I coded together two quarters. That was one of the fun parts of being a redpill; you realize how meaningless money really is. (Note to self: Code up 1 million dollars and throw it into the middle of Richland, into Moriah Projects specifically, and watch the bluepills create a riot. Perhaps I'll bring popcorn.)

Inserting the money and pulling my new paper out after I put my glove back on, I scanned it as I waited for rush hour to die down. I sat down at the bus stop next to a few blues, who looked over at me in my purple leather dress, black gloves, purple glasses, and purple knee high boots. I ignored them and just casually flipped through the paper, learning what I could about today's bluepill culture.

My usual first stop was Andres Bonifaciaeo's column on the front page, usually because it was a laugh a minute. He keeps trying to get into "redpill culture" and he keeps failing miserably. Usually we come off as "too philosophical" for him. Oh… if only he knew. This time, Andres was talking about how we redpills didn't respond to street trends, but we had a trend of our own. Our trend was to constantly wear expensive and hard-to-find clothing, and then shoot and kill one another. Then again, according to him, redpill factions were nothing more than street gangs who pushed dangerous drugs. Once again, if only he knew.

His column did bring up something interesting to me though, and that was this new PDA trend. Apparently, everyone was getting onto this PDA bandwagon and buying these new PDAs equipped with red LED lights. I hesitated and looked up, and the PDA frenzy just happened to be the main story this issue. The cover picture was a woman using her new PDA next to a billboard advertising the new item.

The screeching of brakes from in front of me distracted me for a moment and I glanced up. Some dumbass driver thought it was a good idea to try and run a red light. I don't know why Neo tried to save us all – some people just aren't worth saving. I looked back down and another article caught my attention. This one made me giggle to myself and turn the page, it was a whole article dedicated to the investigation of the death of Morpheus. What a good one! Apparently they thought that "…the great terrorist Morpheus died in an explosion inside of the Network Media Tower, downtown…" That was too funny.

The screeching of brakes caught my attention again and I looked up. Some dumbass driver thought it was a good idea to try and run a red… It was the same car, the same driver. I put down my paper quickly and turned to the people next to me, they were gone. I looked up in a panic, and I noticed that rush hour was gone, all the cars were gone. All there was left was a bag blowing in the street and the wind blowing around me. I was standing in the middle of a trap.

That's when I saw the Agent. He had walked out from a small alleyway between two buildings about 50 feet from me and stood in the middle of the road. I threw down the paper and stood up, adjusting my dress and my bra a little. I smiled, and put my hands at my sides. "You want me, honey? What can I do for an agent of the system today?"

The agent's cold expression stayed. He cracked his knuckled and stared into me, piercing me. My smile slowly wiped away as I realized that he meant business, and my face reached a stoic expression. "You are not authorized to be in this area," he said in a monotone voice. "Redpills are limited to the Richland district only. Leave now."

"I have a right to be here, just like all of the blues. Besides… how did you find me…? I am not causing a disturbance to these people," I said firmly, but I was still nervous. I knew what damage an agent could cause. I tensed up a little, getting ready to grab the phone that was 10 feet from me. At least I had the advantage in this situation.

He just kept staring at me, and I just kept staring at him. He didn't respond to me, and he slowly began to draw his gun. I should have started running at that point, but something didn't seem quite right. He seemed too… too slow. He should have been shooting at me by now. And his glasses, his eyes… Something wasn't adding up. "What's your name, Agent?"

"I am the program Agent On… White. Agent White." He leveled the gun at me. "Leave now or die."

He slipped up. I never heard an agent slip up. Never. They don't do that. And that's when it came to me. I wasn't staring at an agent.

He fired the gun and I quickly moved out of the way, the bullet barely missing. I recovered from my dodging spin and lunged forward, tackling him to the ground. In that brief moment, I was face to face with him and I looked into his eyes through his sunglasses. What I saw surprised me. I saw a red light behind his glasses; a vibrant red light emanating from where his eyes should have been.

I flipped off of him and got into my resting stance, akido style. He got up and brushed himself off and threw the gun away. "Not bad," he said softly. Quickly, in a surprise move, he lunged at me with his fist. I backed off to the side and grabbed his arm, quickly twisting it and throwing him to the ground. I backed off and he got up again and tried the same thing. This wasn't an agent program for sure now; he wouldn't have done the same thing twice.

This time, I grabbed his arm and gave him two punches to the face, breaking his nose. I threw him to the ground, letting him hit hardly into the asphalt face first. Then, as he was still lying there, I brought my heel up and around, and pounded my platform heeled boot onto the back of his neck with precision. I heard the sick crack of his spine breaking, and I brought my foot up and away.

I flipped the body over and was halfway ready to watch as the agent left the body of the bluepill he possessed, as I've heard from others who know about this stuff, but he didn't. This was his body, and he certainly was not an agent program. I rooted around in his jacket pockets and was quickly rewarded. First a couple data disks in his right pocket, then a black PDA from his left pocket.

I picked up the PDA and looked at it… same model as was advertised in the Sentinel. A chill ran thought me as I looked it over and checked out the red LED light on top. It was a perfect match to what I saw in the paper. What was going on here?

I put the data disks and PDA off to the side of the body, and began to check the inside pockets. The left one was empty, but the right one was a very different story. I reached inside and I felt something. Something… something that felt like a shard of glass. It wasn't sharp, but very smooth. I pulled it out of the pocket and opened my hand. What I saw surprised me.

It was beautiful. I held smooth shard that had bits of data running through it, emitting a soft green glow. I could hear the digits run through it; a soft clicking and buzzing that could lull a person to sleep. I held it in both hands, but it had no weight. I pressed into it, and it briefly bended to my touch, but then reformed to its original shape after I stopped pressing down onto it. It was beautiful, mysterious, and odd.

I removed my right glove with my teeth as I kept the shard in my left hand. I had to feel what it felt like on my skin. Just as I placed it into my hand though, a shock of pain ran though my body. I doubled over in pain from my kneeling position on the street and the shard emitted a bright green glow as I held it in my hand. So much was coming over me, so much pain and emotion. My body was quivering in the pain that I felt and I began to cry, because I was intensely sad.

My mouth opened in a silent scream and I gasped out a single sentence. "Trinity… this is for you…" I let go of the shard finally, and immediately all of my pain and emotion went away. I was left alone lying in the middle of the street, the shard and PDA lying next to me, and I had more questions than answers.


End file.
